The Candy Cane Brigade
by Shinoda Senshi
Summary: Jeff Hardy is a self-appointed Christmas elf, charged with spreading holiday cheer one candy cane at a time. *Warning: Contains m/m slash*
1. ONE

**The Candy Cane Brigade**

**ONE**

Jeff Hardy was a happy man. Then again, Christmas always made him happy. The lights. The festive decorations. Even the incredibly repetitive carols. Most of all, more than the presents and the amazing array of desserts, Jeff Hardy loved candy canes.

Not just the peppermint kind. Oh no! Jeff preferred variety. Cherry. Strawberry. Watermelon. Especially the rainbow-colored canes. A bright and cheerful treat that he often bought by the trunkload. Even as he strolled down the hallway, a candy cane dangled from his lips.

Engulfed in the spirit of giving, Jeff was a man on a mission. Deemed himself a specially delegated elf dispatched to spread his own brand of Christmas cheer. He would share his delightfully delicious candy canes. Handing them out to his friends so that they might share them with their loved ones. It did Jeff's heart good to give so selflessly. Made him all warm and tingly inside. Then again, that might have been the two cups of spiked eggnog flowing though his system.

With an extra bit of pep in his step, he nearly collided with Chris Jericho as he rounded the corner. Quick on his feet, Chris spun out of the way. He bounced off the far wall before coming to a stop beside Jeff.

"I've been drinking whiskey all evening and eaten about half a dozen candy canes." Smacking his lips, Jeff pulled the treat from his mouth. "What's your excuse?"

Chris looked at his associate like… Well, like he had foolishly mixed booze and large amounts of unrefined sugar. Typical Jeff Hardy behavior. Best not to ask too many questions. "Kinda in a hurry. Kane and I…" For a brief moment, his cheeks flushed. The Sexy Beast tripped over his own tongue. In a conspiratorial whisper, he said, "We have a date."

"That's great." Jeff mimicked the soft tone. "Why are we whispering?"

"Because…" Abruptly clearing his throat, Chris continued speaking at a normal volume. "Because we haven't been on a date before."

This did not compute. "You mean to tell me that you and Kane have been making the bed springs squeak for the last three months and this is your first date?"

Frowning severely, Chris nodded. "We've never had occasion before. Been too busy… well… getting busy. I'm not even sure what we're supposed to do."

Jeff blinked at his friend. This, too, did not make a lick of sense. As far as he knew, Chris was far from a blushing virgin. Granted, his face had turned a few shades redder since the beginning of their conversation. Sliding the candy between his lips, Jeff asked the obvious question. "So, this is your first date _ever_?"

Prowess called into question, Chris sputtered as he flapped his arms about. Reminding Jeff an awful lot of an agitated chicken. "I have dated _a lot_, Jeff Hardy. I've had a full social calendar since I was twelve years old! The captains of _both_ the football and basketball teams still send me birthday cards!"

"Alright, already!" Rolling his eyes, Jeff continued to suck on his candy cane. "I get it! You've been on more dates than a Hollywood street walker. Still not seeing your problem."

"My problem…" Chris dropped down to a whisper again. "My problem is I don't know how to date Kane. He's not an ordinary guy, ya know." Chris anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. "What if I mess things up? Just between the two of use, he's the best I've ever had. The things that man can do with his hands…" Chris shivered at the memory. "Bottom line: I can't fuck this up."

Jeff nodded in understanding. "Then it's a good thing you came to me."

"I didn't actually."

Undaunted, Jeff forged ahead. "Has it occurred to you that maybe Kane wants to be treated like a normal person? Given his history, I doubt he's had a lot of ordinary experiences."

The entire family was far from ordinary. Jeff knew that better than anyone. Any aside from Chris, of course.

Problem seemingly solved, Chris graced the ingenious Jeff Hardy with a megawatt smile. He grinned wide. Jericho positively glowed. "Thanks, Jeff. I know just what to do."

As he turned to walk away, Jeff shoved a box of candy canes at him. He mirrored Chris' smile. "Take these."

"I don't really…"

"Trust me." Jeff shook the box vigorously. "These things will change your life!"

Realizing his friend was a brand of crazy he did not have time to deal with, Chris took the candy. "Umm… Thanks… See ya, Jeff."

Watching Chris walk away with a prized box of candy canes filled Jeff with satisfaction. He was a damn good elf. "One down, plenty more to go."


	2. TWO

**The Candy Cane Brigade**

**TWO**

Chris' foolproof plan had been an absolute failure. A disaster. A travesty of epic proportions. He couldn't understand it. Where had he gone wrong?

If he had to make a catalogue of the horror, the logical start would be the restaurant. On a good day, Kane was not a public person. Which explained the restrictions of their activities to solely the bedroom. Still, for Chris' sake, the man had shoved aside his insecurities and left his mask behind. One obstacle down.

They didn't have reservations. Christmas Eve and Chris Jericho had actually thought they could wing it. Walk into any restaurant and request a table. Chris hadn't been trying to take Kane to any old eatery. No chain restaurants for the first date with the Big Red Machine. Chris wanted a place with ambiance. Class. Maybe even those napkins folded into the shape of delicate swans.

Chris got laughed out of the first restaurant they tried. Apparently, they were so booked solid that there was a waiting list to get onto the waiting list. According to the snooty snot at the podium, a table wouldn't open up until damn near New Years. It was the same at the next three places they tried. Nothing available and a wait time that would have taxed the patience of any of the Three Wise Men.

Stomach and gas tank nearly on empty, they finally settled on a simple burger joint. The fries were oily, the waitress surly, and Chris' medium well burger cooked well beyond well-done. Still, it was the best they could do for the night. Chris swallowed his pride. It tasted better than his cheeseburger.

The absolute pinnacle of their pitiful evening occurred as they drove back to the hotel. An asshat in some pathetic Prius apparently thought that his decision to go green gave him the right to ignore the rules of the road. Namely that of yielding to oncoming traffic. Kane's pickup truck made scrap metal out of that high falutin hybrid. As a result of that impudent and idiotic behavior, Chris and Kane spent the worst part of an hour idling on the side of the road, taking pictures and police statements. The Prius' driver was lucky to walk away without a single bruise. Especially considering Chris' foul mood and repertoire of submission maneuvers.

Spirit shattered, Chris slid the key card into the hotel room lock. Kane stood behind him. He hadn't spoken more than a few sentences since the police cruiser pulled off. A man of few words, but his eyes conveyed immense amounts of pity for poor Chris Jericho.

"It could have been worse," Kane said as the door swung shut behind them.

"Only if the Prius burst into flames." Once again, Chris' mouth had taken control without any prior consent from his brain. He banged his head against the wall. The increasing pain was the perfect end to his evening. "I am never talking again."

On occasion, Kane proved capable of kindness. He placed a pillow between Chris' pounding head and the structurally sound wall. "Quite beating yourself up. This isn't the worst night I've ever had."

"Yeah, but it was a sucky first date." Sighing heavily, Chris tossed the pillow back onto the bed. It bumped against the box of candy canes Jeff had given him. "You know me. Anything less than awesome is not the Jericho way." He was so down, he could barely muster an interest in getting Kane naked. A nude and fully aroused Kane never failed to perk him up.

Kane sat on the single, king-sized bed. He turned the box of candy canes over in his hands. "At least we've got dessert." His thick fingers tore through the plastic with ease.

At that moment, with his headache slowly subsiding, Chris did not give a flying fuck about those damn candy canes. Given the course of the night, they would probably give him a stomach ache. He took the candy, nonetheless.

Chris took his time unwrapping the candy cane. Sadly, it would probably prove to be the highlight of his Christmas Eve. He slid the candy between his lips. Twirled it absentmindedly. Not bad. He worried the candy would be too sweet. Instead, his mouth filled with a tasty watermelon flavor. Chris sucked it slowly. He had to remember to ask Jeff where he got them.

"Can you believe that douche bag tried to blame the accident on me?" Chris took the candy from his mouth, waving it around as he spoke. "Like I was just looking to get sideswiped. I wonder if he's still crying on the side of the road." He ran his tongue along the exposed stem of the candy cane.

Chris paused, mid-lick, when he heard Kane make a noise. A sound along the lines of a barely contained moan. The Big Red Machine held his candy cane by its colorful hook. He had yet to peel back the plastic. It worried Chris the way he sat stock still on the bed. The only movement was the rapid blinking of his deep blue eyes and the occasional flash of his pink tongue as it darted out to wet his lips.

"What's the matter?" Chris took a step towards the bed. "Don't you like it?"

Eyes traveling up and down the length of Chris Jericho, Kane said, "Oh, I like it." His voice was deep and his grin exceedingly wicked. He beckoned Chris closer. Once within range, he hauled the man onto his lap. "I like it when you lick it nice and slow."

Even if it meant puking his guts out come the morning, Chris Jericho fully intended to eat every last one of those candy canes. After all, he had an audience to entertain.


	3. THREE

**The Candy Cane Brigade**

**THREE**

"Oh, what holy holiday hell is this?"

Randy Orton released the handle of his suitcase. The overloaded bag tipped forward and landed on his foot. Randy didn't care. He had more pressing concerns.

Getting involved with John Cena was a bad idea. Randy knew it from the start. The association brought him nothing but aggravation. Sure, John was a superb kisser. Not to mention one of the few lovers that could match his energy level. His John-boy was down to fuck, anytime, anyplace. That spectacular characteristic did not excuse his current behavior.

Throwing his arms open wide, John declared, "It's Christmas, Randy!" He tossed a handful of red, green, and silver confetti in the air.

Somehow, and for some bizarre reason that would undoubtedly be explained, John had strung blinking lights along the four walls of the hotel room. An evergreen wreath hung on the bathroom door. On the small table in the corner stood the saddest Christmas tree to grace God's good Earth.

"Yes…" Randy took a wary step towards his obviously unhinged partner. John's blue eyes practically sparkled with an excess of holiday cheer. Given the state of his mind, caution was warranted. "I know that. I got flipped off by some little old lady after she cut me off on the interstate. My inquiry pertains specifically to what you've done to the room."

John set a small box wrapped in jolly Santa paper beneath the sad little tree. "I figured that being away from our families was no reason not to celebrate the holiday to the fullest." He minutely adjusted the package's position. "Got eggnog chilling in the mini fridge, a Christmas playlist primed and ready on my iPod, and a Santa suit hanging in the closet." He beamed at Randy, about ready to burst from all the jolly. "This is gonna be awesome!"

It was too late for Randy to find another room. Fittingly, there were no more rooms at their inn. No choice about it. Randy had to bunk with a sentimental nut job. That didn't mean he had to be pleasant about it. "Where the hell did get you all this crap?"

John fixed Randy with a wounded look. Like all the puppies in the world had died. "This isn't _crap_, Randy. My decorations are of the highest quality."

Great. High quality crap. That made all the difference. Randy pointed an accusing finger at the tabletop abomination. "And what, exactly, do you call that?"

"A Christmas tree," said John.

"In what universe?" Randy had seen car fresheners that looked more realistic.

John puffed out his chest in protest. "I haven't put the finishing touches on it yet." He produced a box of candy canes. "Here." He waved the box at Randy. "Hang these on the tree while I get suited up."

Clearly, the holiday fever had destroyed Cena's brain. Randy had to put him out of his misery. By bludgeoning the former champion with the box of candy canes. It was the humane thing to do. "Yeah, that's not happening."

"Come on, Randy!" John continued to wave the box. The sweet treats jiggled inside. "It'll be fun!"

"You say that, but we both know it's a lie." Under the weight of those imploring eyes, Randy buckled. He snatched the box from John's hand. "For this, you're getting coal in your pillowcase."

John quickly corrected, "Coal goes in stockings."

"Not the way I do it. Pillowcases work better." Randy ripped off the plastic. "Get more coal in them, which makes them heavier, which makes it easier to beat your brains in."

Despite the not-so-veiled threat, John kissed him on the cheek. "Be back in a minute. And, if you're nice, I'll give you a treat." He disappeared into the bathroom before Randy could come back with a scathing retort.

Up close, the tree truly was pitiful. Thin branches with sparse sprigs of fake greenery. Looked like it was the last pic at some out of the way gas station. At a little over three feet tall, it was a truly depressing sight. Not even a candy cane one every branch could make it cheerful. Still, Randy did as he was told. After about four candy canes, the tree began to list to the right. Randy compensated by hanging a few on the other side. Once ten candy canes adorned the tree, Randy gave up. There was just no saving it.

Of all the men for Randy Orton to fall in love with, he had to go and choose Charlie Brown.

He turned at the sound of the bathroom door opening. John emerged, decked out in the best Santa suit Randy had the pleasure to set his eyes on. Black boots. Red leather pants with a matching red vest that hung open. Revealing the divinely delicious chest and stomach Randy loved to run his nails across. The man's nipples were especially nibble worthy. Atop his head, John placed a bright white cowboy hat.

It was Randy's fondest dream come true. His very own Christmas cowboy.

John swaggered towards him. The tiny silver bells on his vest jingled with every step. Cheeky grin squarely in place, he plucked a candy cane from the tree. He carefully broke the plastic and pulled it down. Into Randy's open mouth, he stuck the stem. The lips that starred in every one of his fantasies closed around it.

Leaning close enough to almost feel the flutter of his lover's lashes, John whispered, "Come sit on my lap and tell Saint John what you want tonight."

Randy swallowed hard around the sweet stick. "It's Saint Nick," he managed to say.

"Baby, you can call me whatever you want. I plan on making you holler til your voice goes hoarse."


	4. FOUR

**The Candy Cane Brigade**

**FOUR**

"Rudolph!"

"Frosty!"

"Rudolph!"

"Frosty!"

"Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer, you stubborn moron!"

"Frosty the Snowman, you backwoods buffoon!"

Drawn to the raised voices, Jeff pressed his ear against the door. He knew for a fact that the room belonged to his older brother. They bunked separately because of Jeff's preference in bedmates. As much as they missed each other, they realized the danger of spending every minute of their lives together. Jeff's partner was the jealous type. Liked to keep Jeff all to himself.

Matt had found some company of his own. From the sound of things, it was not the best kind.

"That's right, Adam! Just walk away!"

Jeff had no time to react. The door swung open. He fell face first onto the carpet. He blinked at the pair of white tennis shoes inches from his face.

"What the hell?" Startled, Adam skittered away from the fallen Hardy. He did not stop until he stood beside Matt. "Why is it that wherever there's one of you, the other isn't too far behind?"

Jeff quickly stood. He retrieved the box of candy canes that he had dropped. "I heard shouting and wanted to make sure everything was okay." He glanced at his brother, who was staring hard at Adam. As if wishing for the man's hair to suddenly burst into flames. "Everything is okay, isn't it?"

When it came to relationships, Jeff and Matt had an unbreakable rule. No interfering. Even if supposedly acting in the other's best interest, meddling of any kind was absolutely out of the question. The one loophole was if one freely divulged information to the other. They could spill their guts. They could commiserate. They could even curse their partners until the bartender cut them off. What they could not do was take matters into their own hands regarding their sibling's domestic situation.

"Adam? Any particular reason you're screaming at my brother?"

The tall blond placed his hands on his hips. "Oh, I'll give you a reason. Your brother is a mental case!"

"Careful, Copeland." Matt poked him in the chest. "Those are fighting words. And you know I can beat your ass blindfolded any day of the week."

Jeff raised a quieting hand. "Please, keep your bedroom shenanigans to yourself. I do not need to hear about beatings and blindfolds. Especially this close to Christmas." While his brother remained one of the most important people in his life, Jeff did not need to know every sordid detail.

"Your brother is under the sick delusion that Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer is the most enduring and heart-warming animated classic of the holiday season." Nose stiffly stuck in the air, Adam folded his arms across his chest. "As if that four-legged freak of nature could hold a candle to Frosty the Snowman."

At the end of his tether, Matt smacked Adam upside the head. "He can, barnacles for brains! Rudolph guides Santa's sleigh through the night! Without him, how would the children of the world get their gifts? All that hard work and good behavior for nothing!"

Adam stood toe to toe with Matt. He glared down at his opponent. "There is no Santa Claus! And Rudolph was a girl!"

"No, he wasn't!"

"Yes, he was!" Adam flicked Matt across the nose. "Only female reindeers keep their antlers in the winter. Every last one of the reindeers on Santa's sleigh were chicks!"

Matt was not one to back down from a physical confrontation. Especially when Adam Copeland was involved. "You know what, jerk face? Frosty melted at the end of that cartoon. Your icon was defeated by sunlight!"

Things were about to turn ugly. Well, _uglier_. Once the head-slapping and nose-flicking started, it went straight downhill from there. Since they were basically under contract not to kill each other, Jeff intervened.

"May I interject?" Having no white flag to wave, Jeff settled for his box of candy canes.

"Sure," said Matt.

"Why not?" grumbled Adam.

"You're both wrong." Two pairs of eyes stared at Jeff as if he had suddenly grown antlers. "Everybody knows that the Peanuts Christmas special is the best of all time."

Adam turned his anger to the younger Hardy. "I'll tell you where you can stick your Peanuts."

Sure of his stance, Jeff cleared his throat. "_And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, 'Fear not: for behold, I bring unto you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the City of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.' And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men._" He grinned at the two of them. "And that's the meaning of Christmas, dumbass."

Silence filled the room.

Adam tapped Matt on the shoulder. "You win."

"Really?" Matt had every reason to sound disbelieving. His sometimes opponent and recent lover did not give up easily. Usually, a steel chair had to be introduced to his skull before he conceded. Adam had once argued with an EMT for fifteen minutes, debating whether or not he had a concussion. "I win?"

Adam nodded. "Of the two, you are definitely the saner Hardy."

Of all the compliments for him to receive, that had to be the most backhanded. Still, considering it came from, Matt couldn't help being flattered. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The box of candy canes bounced off Adam's head. After a small fumble, Matt caught it.

"Merry Christmas, jerks!" Jeff stuck his tongue out at the pair. "The two of you deserve each other!"

Relieved of his final gift to give, Jeff left. Slamming the door behind him. He grinned to himself as he stood in the hallway. His brother and Adam were an unlikely match. Their passionate fighting no doubt led to even more passionate lovemaking. A thought which turned Jeff's stomach. Of course, that could also be the result of the near dozen candy canes he had excitedly consumed. As long as Matt was happy, Jeff was happy. Besides, the younger, more abnormal Hardy knew a thing or two about unlikely matches.

Spreading holiday cheer proved exhausting. Jeff had managed to eat up and give out all of his inventory. He wanted nothing more than to return to his room and relax. Surely some channel was airing a Christmas special or having some sort of marathon. Jeff planned on climbing under the sheets and letting the flickering of the television lull him to sleep.

A strange bag rested against the bed. A vaguely familiar black coat was slung across the back of the chair. As Jeff investigated the new additions to his hotel room, the bathroom door opened. Surrounded by steam and still slightly damp, Mark Calloway leaned against the door frame. Buck naked and without a hint of shame.

Two and a half months. A sum total of seventy four days since Jeff had laid eyes on his lover. He didn't expected a chance to see him until well into the New Year. Yet there Mark stood. No bow. No delicate wrappings. But the best damn Christmas present Jeff could have hoped for.

Restraint had never been one of Jeff's virtues. Especially when one of the finest men in the business waited only feet away. Seven feet of sexy, just for him. Jeff took a running leap at Mark, grateful when the other man caught him. "Santa got my letter!" he shouted, raining kisses all over Mark's face.

"Easy there, sweet cheeks." Mark carried Jeff's weight with ease. "Let a man get his bearings before you launch at him like some sexed-up flying squirrel."

As much as Jeff adored the sound of Mark's voice, he needed less lecturing and more loving. "I am hyper and I am horny and I demand satisfaction."

Mark pressed his lips against Jeff's. His fingers knotted in Jeff's hair. Holding Jeff up was no problem. Save for the fact that he was naked and his favorite flying squirrel was not. "You taste sweet," Mark mumbled against Jeff's mouth. "You've been at the candy canes again, haven't you?"

"They're my favorite part of Christmas. Can't get them any other time of the year." Explaining meant using their mouths for an activity other than kissing. Completely unacceptable.

Mark grinned as his lover tried to claim his lips again. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I brought some with me."

The prospect of more candy canes put Jeff's thinking on another track. He indulged his sweet tooth whenever possible. "Where? Where?" He practically bounced in Mark's arms.

"In the bag," he said. "But the store only had peppermint. I know how much you like those crazy flavors."

On occasion, Jeff had found peppermint boring. Especially when compared to apple spice and cinnamon swirl. Still, given the proper application, peppermint could be quite… invigorating.

Santa would understand. After all, he had managed to deliver Mark. A bit of naughtiness after the fact was to be expected.

"Two words for you, Mark. Peppermint blowjob. I swear, it will change your life."

At the snow covered inn, under a clear, starry sky, the night was far from silent.

**END**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> If you enjoyed this story, please check out _Christmas Special_ by IsidoraAngst. The first chapter, "Candy Canes", inspired this story. Something about Superstars sucking on sugary treats, well... *ahem* You can imagine. So, go! Read! Enjoy!


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